birthdays
by explodeywodey
Summary: They might meet in the wrong order, but that doesn't mean he's going to forget her birthday.


paring: river/eleven

rating: T (for mild [and hoo boy i do mean mild] sexual content)

wordcount: 2417

summary: They might meet in the wrong order, but that doesn't mean he's going to forget her birthday. 1.

1.

It's past Stormcage curfew when River hears the sound; the hallways are dark but for the occasional guard and the whir of security cameras, and the lights in her cell are dim. The sound in the hall is as familiar as her own voice, the caustic _wheeze-wheeze _of the TARDIS.

"Doctor _Song_!" she hears called through the hallways, her Doctor's voice echoing hollowly. "It's your birthday and there is an entire battlefleet of Sontarans after me. Those two aren't _necessarily _connected, but considering your track record, I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, I'd suggest you get out of that cell _on stat_."

2.

"And how old are you _this _time?" he asks, whisking off the top hat.

"Ooh, _never _ask a lady her age, sweetie," she replies with a smirk. Taking his hand, she allows him to escort her into the TARDIS.

"And you're a lady now, Doctor Song?"

"Tried it out, once," she says, breezing past him to drape her coat over the railing in the console.

"And how did that work?"

"I'm an archaeologist again, aren't I? Dreadfully boring, and if you go too far back, there's all this complicated business with underthings and _far _too much clothing." She kicks off her heels and reclines her body against the console, grinning roguishly up at him. "Now, where on earth could you be taking me?"

"A bit farther than Earth," he says with a grin. "What do you think about the Eye of Orion?"

3.

"Atlantis Alpha," he proclaims with a grin. "The _actual _blue planet. Terraformed to water, and underneath it, a sunken city." He throws out his arms in a prideful gesture toward the blue planet floating in space, smile so smug you'd almost think he created the planet. Actually, he probably had a hand in it, she thinks as she pulls a lever, sending the blue police box zipping toward the planet.

They spend most of their time on Atlantis Alpha running from a violently religious sect of trout, but all in all, it's not a bad birthday. They pick up sushi from a restaurant located in the city's downtown district and park the TARDIS a few thousand miles above the planet, swinging their feet over the edge and wondering if the sushi counts as cannibalism.

4.

"Daleks?" she asks incredulously. "_Again_?"

"They just _won't _die!" he fumes. At the press of a button, the TARDIS begins to dematerialise. "I'm taking us up to their ship—"

"Is that _really _a good idea?"

"_And then _I'll do a clever thing and if I'm lucky, which I usually am, the Daleks will cooperate and go _boom_." The TARDIS lands silently this time—she's taken the precaution of turning the brakes off.

"All I wanted was a nice dinner, maybe a drink or two, who knows, maybe a nice view of a sunset _anywhere _in the universe, and you pick the _one solitary planet _with Daleks!"

"It really isn't my fault, you know. They keep coming back! It's not even genocide anymore, it's more like trying to clean up my mess over and over and over again!" With a frown, he presses open the TARDIS doors and peers out. "Right, good, you're all here. Listen up, all of, er, Dalek-kind. Well, I hope it's all of you. Wouldn't be the first time I thought I'd rid the universe of you lot only to be surprised a half-century later by a repopulated army. How do you repopulate, anyway? Not that I'd like a demonstration."

Behind him, River clears her throat. "Sweetie?"

"Right. All right Daleks, I'm operating on a tight schedule. My wife and I were going to have a nice birthday dinner and maybe catch a movie in the 45th century—I've only seen _Mission: Impossible 186_ twice and I really do fancy seeing it again, and your imminent demise would go a _lot _faster if you'd just cooperate with me!"

There's silence for a moment, like the Daleks have been stunned speechless.

River draws her blaster out of the holster as from outside the TARDIS comes a quiet, hesitant "EXTERMINATE…?"

5.

"To dinner, River?" He shows up in suits now, dressed to the nines but always with the bow-tie and top hat. She's beginning to appreciate them, really, and the stunning figure he cuts in formal attire. All that time in tweed is well worth it if this is how he cleans up.

She takes his offered hand with a grin, pulling a lever on the console. "I was thinking Venice? I know a nice place that opens up over the sunken markets in the 31st century, quiet and cozy and it has some _exceptional _seabass."

Venice (it's called Neo-Venice now, actually, in a stunning example of human originality. Never think of a good name when a simple suffix will do.) is…interesting. The TARDIS parks them in the middle of a riot (something about mildew in the city) and once more, they spend a good time running away from a large, angry man with a fish.

"It's becoming almost a tradition, really," the Doctor observes as they bolt down an alley, boots splashing through the puddles. "Running and fish."

"I don't care if it's a _tradition_," River snaps, panting slightly. Her body's abilities aren't quite on par with the evolutionary advantages the Doctor's got over her, and she tires a bit easier than he does (also, the legs really help. She might have muscle but he's lean and quick, which has come marvellously in handy considering all the running). "Make it _stop_."

It does, eventually: the mob sacks a good half of the city before the police come out and shut them down in a matter of moments (it's not even police brutality, just one rather matronly sergeant telling a group of drunks to head home before they catch their death of cold), and dinner happens, albeit later than planned.

The seabass is just as good as promised.

6.

"Daleks," he says with distaste. "Every bloody time I think I've gotten rid of them, they pop up again like clockwork!"

"Goodness, is getting me a simple _dinner _going to take a week?" she asks, stepping forward to look down at the city below them. "Never met the Daleks, although I've heard of them. I must admit, I'm somewhat intrigued."

"Don't be," he says, and his voice is rough and angry and impossibly cold. "The Daleks are horrible; beings of impossible cruelty with only one purpose: to conquer and destroy. I've lost so many friends to them, and so many civilisations have been razed by their might. Don't _ever _take a Dalek lightly."

"I wasn't planning on it, sweetie," she says, filing away the hurt she sees reflected on every line of his face for later. There are a lot of moments like this, when she gets a glimpse of something terrifying behind her silly Doctor, when she sees the great warrior that the universe has learned to fear over time.

7.

This time, everything is different.

He smiles at her, nervous and bashful, and she can see the hope behind his eyes. "Human _plus_," he says, and she can feel the awe in his voice. "Can you feel it, then? The world turning beneath us?"

"Somewhat." The light behind his eyes fades slightly, and she reaches out to grasp his hand. "Show me, then," she breathes, moving his fingers toward her temples. "Share the burden of the Time Lord."

There is trepidation in his eyes as he takes a step forward, freeing his hand from hers and moving both to rest at her brow, thumbs braced against her forehead as his forefingers rest against her temples and the rest of his fingers splay along her cheeks. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

The change is instantaneous. What once was a vague, dull pulse below her feet, akin somewhat to the motion of the sea below a ship, becomes a heady swaying whirl of motion, the sensation of spinning at thousands of miles per hour, but _oh _it feels like the speed of light or sound, a chaotic planetary dance through the universe. It's wonderful, yet she's never been more terrified before in her life. She sways in place, sensation of motion beyond her control coursing through her, stunned by the rate at which the planet below them is turning and how oblivious to it she's been. Steady hands catch her by the shoulders and the motion stops abruptly. Their eyes meet for a long moment, mingling apprehension in his and something inscrutable in hers.

The moment ends abruptly as she smiles. Something mysterious sparkles in her eyes and grin as she reaches out to press her fingers to his temples, and the universe is small and homey again, more human and a lot less frightening. The ground beneath his feet feels nearly still and there isn't the constant pulse of time in his brain. All that matters is the here and now, the microcosm of his world is all that he can feel. He gasps, and River watches him nervously as tears form in his eyes.

"Is this how it feels?" he asks quietly, his upper lip trembling slightly. "Being human?"

"It's small, isn't it? So homey. Almost boring to you, I'm sure," she qualifies uncertainly. "I think it's smaller for humans, the spread of the mind. They can't feel the world moving below them."

It's like his mind isn't a universe but a _house_, a place where he is safe and warm and loved. River looks nervous, like she thinks he's going to revile her for this, for the way she is. It makes him feel…more alien, definitely, but also more important. It's harder to cherish people you love when you're constantly aware that you're spinning through space and that at this very moment anything can go wrong.

He kisses her slowly, gently, reverently, trying to communicate how much this means in _some _way because, for once, he's speechless.

8.

Everything feels so horribly familiar in this moment, the towers resonating with song around them and hot, wet tear tracks down his face.

The skylight on the ceiling bathes them in pale starlight and bleak moonlight as they move slowly and sweetly, lips locked and arms drawn tight around each other. Their foreheads touch and they still momentarily, slick with sweat despite the midnight chill in the room. Over the sound of their own breathing and the heavy pound-pound-pound-pounding thrum of his hears and pulse, he hears the towers echoing their endless harmony.

"You're crying, my love," River whispers, detaching her arms from around him to press her thumb to his face, brushing away a tear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says adamantly, setting his jaw and blinking the tears back. "Nothing at all. I'm _happy_, so happy, and getting so, so, so _humany_."

"Understandable," she says, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose and hooking her leg around his as she pulls their bodies closer still; all thought of her impending end flees his mind for the time being, if only to enjoy what limited time they have. There's still a spark of doubt in her eyes, but she's used to this, isn't she? All the secrets, all the questions hiding behind who they are and what they become.

It's only when he's dropped her off in her flat that he allows himself to cry; deep, heaving sobs like a brokenhearted child as he curls up below the TARDIS console amongst the wires and lets all the horror and misery seep out his tear ducts.

"_Happy bloody Birthday, River_," he mumbles. The last birthday of hers he ever gets, and he spent a good portion of it trying not to cry like a petulant child. And she's gone now; no more happy days and adrenaline-fuelled adventures through space and time, no more Ponds and no more River. That's it: he's the last of the time lords again, and the universe feels so empty that it hurts.

_No_, though. There are still more birthdays, still more days. They're just not _future_.

9.

The girl hunched over in the New York alley doesn't expect anyone to head down her way, he can tell by her startled expression as she looks up at him.

"Can I help you?" she asks, regarding warily the cupcake in his hands, the flickering candle on top of it shedding meagre light in the dingy alley.

"It's your birthday, isn't it?" He offers the treat to her slowly, like she's a stray cat ready to run, or pounce.

"How do _you _know that?"

"Oh, I always know. I mean, we never meet in quite the right order, but luckily for me, I've the knack for getting you on birthdays."

"_Who _are you?" she demands, pursing her little mouth as she snatches the cake from his hands. The speed makes the candle flicker and go out, and she pulls it from the frosting and tosses it to the side. "This isn't _poisoned_, is it?"

"Oh, you know me. Or you will. Or maybe you do now. Anyway, I know you, and that's all that matters. And what sort of man would I be to poison a little girl?"

"I'm not _little_," she snaps, taking a cursory nibble of the cake. "I'm _eight_."

"And just like your mother, too. Happy Birthday, Melody," he says with a small, sad smile, turning and heading back to where the TARDIS waits. "I'll see you in twenty-odd years."

There's a soft, quiet cry from the alley, like she's calling him back, but he ignores it, blinking back tears as he tries not to run away.


End file.
